


We're Going Out

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: Saren and Nihlus have no food in the apartment (or at least, none they actually consideredible), so they go out for lunch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for non-shepard ships week on tumblr!! this is the first of ten why do i do this to myself

“Saren-”

“No.”

Nihlus looked up sharply from his datapad, putting one mandible down. “You didn’t even hear what I was going to ask.”

Saren was lounging on the couch, one arm over his eyes to block out the light. “Let me guess, Nihlus. You could be asking me something you could look up on the extranet in less time than it takes to ask me, in which case the answer is, ‘No, look it up yourself.’ You could also be asking me for a favor. Then the answer is, ‘No, do it yourself.’ _Or,_ you could be asking if I want to do something, to which the answer is, ‘No, I just got comfortable.’ No matter what, Nihlus, the answer is no.”

Nihlus raised his brow plates. “And what if the question was ‘do you want to go out for lunch?’”

Saren paused, then lifted his arm off his face and picked up his head to look at Nihlus. “Was it?”

“No, but I got your attention, didn’t I?” Nihlus snorted and shook his head. “I was just wondering if you’ve turned in your last mission report yet.”

Saren stared at him for a moment, then snorted and put his head back down. “No. I haven’t gotten bored enough to start yet.”

Nihlus folded his arms under his keel. “Even though you’re just lying on the couch, doing nothing?”

“It’s still more interesting than doing mission reports, Nihlus.”

Nihlus rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll just put your name on mine, then,” he said, unfolding his arms so he could work on his datapad again. “I know your executive dysfunction goes away when you have a deadline in a few hours. Does the Council?”

 _“No,_ and I prefer to keep it that way.” Saren rolled over, putting his back to Nihlus. “Now, if you’re quite finished…”

Nihlus hit _send_ on the mission report, then tossed the datapad aside and headed for the closet. “As a matter of fact, I’m not. Come on.”

Saren craned his head so his chin was on the armrest. “What?”

Nihlus opened the closet and flipped through with one talon. “Get up, we’re going out for lunch.”

Saren’s mandibles fluttered. “You said you weren’t asking me that.”

“I know. I’m _not_ asking. I’m _telling_ you. We’ve been holed up in here for days now, and if we don’t get some other food soon, we’ll be down to just the MREs that are so disgusting, the Council probably classifies them as a _war crime.”_ He shuddered, then continued, “So we’re going to grab something for lunch, then go grocery shopping.”

Saren blinked at him slowly, then heaved a sigh and rolled off the couch. “I already know what your answer will be, but explain to me why I have to come, anyway.”

Nihlus tossed Saren his usual cloak, the black one with worn patches at the shoulders and fraying hems. “Because I hate going alone, and it’s easier to get things we’ll both eat if you come with me.”

Saren flicked his mandibles, snatching his cloak out of the air and settling it around his shoulders. He didn’t offer any other input, simply watching as Nihlus put on his own cloak and closed the closet, then putting his hood up while Nihlus got the door. In the eternal twilight of the Wards, Saren’s hood was unnecessary, Nihlus knew; Saren had told him within days of their first meeting that he simply wore it because his family had hammered it into his head early on to wear his hood whenever he went outside. Hooded cloaks were an old fashion, from back before the turian space age, which had survived out of practicality. Cloaks were easier to maneuver around their cowls and many sharp, jutting edges than the form-hugging jackets favored by so many aliens, and the hoods provided an extra layer of protection from Trebia’s harsh rays on their unplated necks. Saren, being albino, was at more risk than your standard turian, so the habit was one meant to literally save his skin should he ever return to the homeworld.

One of the admittedly annoying things Nihlus had learned about Saren early on was that he could be very picky about where he ate. While he was willing to eat most anything put in front of him, mostly because his biotics-induced high metabolism kept him at least slightly hungry most of the day, Saren couldn’t tolerate an unfortunate amount of the restaurants on the Citadel. Some were too noisy, some were too quiet. Too messy, too sanitized, too close to places that made Saren jumpy, too far from safety- Nihlus didn’t know how Saren kept track of his mental checklist.

He considered it nothing short of a miracle that they’d been able to get an apartment within acceptable walking distance of one of Saren’s few accepted food stops.

It was nothing fancy, just a simple dextro seafood restaurant. Most of the patrons were turians, but they did offer purification services so quarians could eat something other than nutrient paste. Saren was very particular about his spot; only the tables along the dark fish tank taking up the back wall would do. He liked to watch the collection of homeworld fish swim around, and the dimmed lighting was easier on his sensitive eyes.

Besides, nobody wanted to bother the two Spectres sitting at the back of a restaurant. Even though _they_ knew they were only there for lunch, everyone _else_ assumed they were up to Council business so classified prying would get them killed. It was a rare benefit Nihlus didn’t enjoy at his favored window seats, so Saren’s seating choice was what they went with.

Their server was a soft-spoken crestless, eyes wide and mandibles trembling. Her paint had a fresh gleam to it, probably recently earned. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, a local kid working for extra spending money in what time she had before mandatory service. She dropped her stylus twice, once when she came over and a second when Saren had turned his thousand-yard stare on her.

Nihlus pitied her. Their faces were likely all over the Citadel newsfeeds at least twice a year, and always coupled with footage of destruction. Maybe she’d be lucky, and she’d make it out of mandatory service without anything exciting happening to her. She didn’t seem the type to take it well.

As the server skittered away, Nihlus watched Saren watch the fish. “No comment?”

Saren grunted. “I fail to grasp your meaning, Nihlus.”

Nihlus leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. “You usually have a comment about the staff when we come here. What about her?”

A snort. “I have enough basic decency to leave a child be, Kryik. Have you noticed they added a school of pin-tailed _skarrit_ since we were last here?”

Changing the subject. Saren was good at that. Oh,well. It wasn’t like Nihlus had really wanted to pursue the topic. “How do you know so much about fish? I never asked.”

Saren flicked a mandible. “Grandmother likes seafood. She had books. She let me read them, when we visited. And showed me how to prepare different fish.”

“Ah.” He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward a little, putting his weight on his forearms. “So it’s a childhood sentimentality.”

Saren nodded. “She had one book- a big encyclopedia, every fish that lives in a Palavenian ocean. She doesn’t even live on the homeworld, but it was her favorite.” He ducked his head, eyes now trained on the talons resting on the glass. “I liked the reef fish. They were colorful.”

Nihlus raised a brow plate. “I’ll admit, fish isn’t something I’d expect you to know… _anything_ about, really. Then again, you also like clawball, so what do I know?”

Saren looked at him again, one mandible going down. “You like asari soap operas. The _bad_ ones. You’re not allowed to judge me, Nihlus.”

“They’re _not_ bad, but fair enough.” He raised his hands to concede defeat, then leaned back again, looking around the room. “Have you thought about bringing your grandmother here? She might like it.”

“You don’t know Grandmother well enough to know what sorts of things she likes.” Even as the words left Saren’s mouth, his subvocals hummed agreement, and he turned away from the tank fully to gaze out over the restaurant. “Although I suppose you’re right. I’ll bring it up to her the next time she calls.” His mandibles fluttered, then he turned on Nihlus again and leveled a talon at him. “But if she agrees, _you_ don’t get to come.”

Nihlus drew back from the deadly point in front of his nasal plates. “What? I mean, yeah, of course, it’s your grandma, but… _why?”_

Saren put his hand down, then folded his arms across his chest and looked away. “Grandmother is a stubborn old woman. Mother insisted Desolas and I got it from her. The _last_ thing I need is her harassing me about my…” He drew his mandibles in close, then snorted. “My _romantic interests.”_

Nihlus blinked, then barked out a laugh. “So, you don’t want me to meet your grandmother, your _only living relative_ that you’re in any sort of contact with, because you don’t want her to know you’re _dating me?_ I’ve said it before, Saren, but you really are a master of avoiding subjects.”

Saren jerked his head up. “I simply don’t want to tell her about private matters, Nihlus.” He fluttered one mandible, then added, “Not in person, at least.”

Nihlus snorted. “Is she the type to bother you about grandkids?”

Saren shook his head, and his subvocals chimed a note of relief. “No, she’s aware I have no interest in children. That, thankfully, was something she saved for Desolas, and now, on occasion, Valis. She just… wants to know the details.”

Nihlus raised a brow plate, and Saren grumbled. “She’d pester me about how we met, how long we’ve been together, how long I was planning on not telling her… That sort of thing.”

Nihlus’s mandibles fluttered, and he tilted his head, considering. “That’s… sweet, actually.”

Saren sighed. “I suppose, to be fair, she may be trying to make up for what she lost in shunning Mother, in a way. She didn’t approve of Father’s choice in partners, and especially the circumstances under which they settled down, so Desolas suspected she was simply making up for her lack of interest with… an overabundance of it.”

Nihlus nodded. He didn’t pretend to understand the complicated web that was Saren’s family, but he knew Desolas had been the result of a couple of turians in mandatory who weren’t careful enough, and had decided to settle together and raise the baby instead of getting rid of him in one way or another, at the expense of their disapproving families. Saren had explained that much to him, back when Nihlus had asked why he only ever spoke of the one grandparent, his father’s mother. “So, this is just you hating answering questions.”

Saren’s neck turned a few shades of blue brighter than usual, and he fidgeted. “Essentially,” he ground out.

Nihlus gave him a long look, then lifted his mandibles in what he hoped came across as a reassuring grin. “It’s not a big deal, Saren. If you don’t want to tell her yet, you don’t have to, simple as that.”

Saren looked up at him, eyes searching his in a rare moment of eye contact. Apparently finding nothing to worry about, he sat up properly, shoulders sloping down. “Thank you, Nihlus.”

“Any time.” Nihlus set one hand in the center of the table, and after a moment, Saren covered it with one of his own. “Just let me know when you want to drop the bomb over comms, okay?”


End file.
